


To Have and To Hold

by thewolvescalledmehome



Series: Home [7]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Declarations Of Love, Established Relationship, F/M, Weddings, lil bit of angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-26
Updated: 2019-06-27
Packaged: 2020-05-19 22:51:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19365394
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thewolvescalledmehome/pseuds/thewolvescalledmehome
Summary: Jon and Sansa get marriedPost-Fic follow up to I'll Make This Feel Like Home





	1. The Ceremony

**Author's Note:**

> I swear I've been working on this, but it's taken forever for it to be finished. Sorry.
> 
> I hope to have the rest of the one shots I have planned up by the end of the summer, but we'll see.

**Sansa**

Sansa rolled over, half awake. Her hand flung out and her sleepy brain expected it to land on Jon, not on Lady. She opened her eyes to be met with her dog’s brown ones instead of her fiancé’s grey ones. It was the pale purple of the walls that reminded her of where she was and why Jon wasn’t beside her.

She was at her parents’ house because it was the weekend of her wedding and Jon had suddenly revealed just how superstitious he was. They weren’t getting married until tomorrow—tonight was just the rehearsal dinner, and yet he had insisted that she stay at her parents’. He said he didn’t want to chance anything, which she had called silly, but she kissed him and said she’d see him at the rehearsal.

 _I miss you_ she texted him.

She considered going back to sleep—it was the weekend of her wedding after all—but a knocking at her door deterred that.

“It’s open,” she called, sitting up slowly.

“Morning,” Catelyn greeted, stepping in and shutting the door. Sansa was suddenly more awake.

Catelyn had been supportive during the whole planning process—even when they’d told her parents about the more non-traditional parts they were planning on incorporating, like Arya standing on Jon’s side in pants, not a dress, and Jon taking her last name—but something about her apprehensive expression made Sansa nervous.

“How’re you feeling?”

“Fine. What’s up?”

“I wanted to talk to you about something.”

“Oh, it’s not the birds and the bees, is it?” she groaned.

“No, no, no. It’s about the reception.”

“The reception?”

“I know that you’re trying to be sensitive of Jon’s family situation, and that you have to make sacrifices—”

“I’m not _sacrificing_ anything for Jon,” Sansa interrupted hotly.

Catelyn had been reaching toward Sansa but quickly repositioned her hands in her lap.

“Of course, that’s not what I meant. That’s the wrong word… I…”

“What’s this about, Mum?”

“The father-daughter dance.”

“The— _what_?” Of all the things she thought her mother was going to say, that was amongst the last.

“I know you decided to cut both dances out, and I fully understand why, and so does your father but… When you were born, he talked about dancing with you on your wedding day. He had been looking forward to it for so long, and I don’t know if he’ll get another chance.”

“You do have Arya,” Sansa reminded.

“ _If_ Arya ever actually gets married, my money’s on her eloping. I would wager you’ll be the only daughter with a more traditional reception.”

Sansa snorted but quickly sobered.

“I-I didn’t realize how much it would mean to Dad…” she said softly. “I-I’ll talk to Jon. I’m sure he’ll understand. It was my idea not to do the dances anyway…”

“No, dear, you misunderstood me. I do want you to have the father-daughter dance, but I don’t want Jon to feel left out. I’ll dance with him.”

“You’ll what?”

“I’ll dance with him. I’ll be his mother-in-law. It’s close enough.”

“Thank you, Mum. Jon will really appreciate it.”

Catelyn patted her knee before leaving. As soon as the door shut behind her, Sansa found herself grinning stupidly. Catelyn offered to dance with Jon. All the nerves that had formed in her system from her mum saying they needed to talk completely evaporated. She had to remind herself that Catelyn, though initially hesitant, never actually said anything negative about Jon or their relationship. She had to remember that all Catelyn, all her parents, ever wanted was for her to be happy.

* * *

“So, the lads and Arya will walk, then the bridesmaids, followed by you and Ned,” the officiant explained, gesturing to the aisle. “Jon will be waiting up here with me. We’ll do your vows—have you each prepared your own?”

They both nodded. Sansa wondered if she’d be able even read them tomorrow.

“Great. Then we’ll do the exchanging of the rings and closing remarks, then you’ll be married? Excited? Nervous?”

“Little of both,” she heard Jon chuckle, his hand finding hers. “Mostly excited, though.”

“Good. I’d be surprised if you weren’t at least a little nervous.”

Sansa laughed because it echoed something her parents had said on the way over. Nerves on the wedding day were to be expected—to stand up in front of everyone and pour out the depth of her heart in front of her friends and family—that in and of its self was always going to be a nerve-wracking. Her parents said as long as she wasn’t nervous about Jon—spending the rest of their lives together—the nerves were fine.

Sansa had no nerves whatsoever about Jon, or the lives they’d be starting together. It was just getting through the damn ceremony without completely ruining her makeup tomorrow she was nervous about.

* * *

**Jon**

“I thought you’d be pacing or something, not still in bed,” he heard just before a pillow thwacked him in the head. The bed shifted as Ghost bounded up beside him, then again as Arya sat.

“Huh?” he asked, groggily pulling his head out from under his pillow.

“What, did you do some shots when you got home last night?”

“Hm? Oh, no. I just had some valerian root tea last night.”

“Trouble sleeping?”

He shrugged, corralling his curls into a hair tie. He didn’t want to admit to Arya how nervous he’d been last night. Or still was this morning.

How a small, quiet, distressing voice inside him kept asking _what if, what if, what if_.

What if she doesn’t come down the aisle?

What if she regrets agreeing to marry him?

What if he actually gets everything he ever dreamed of having?

What if that last one was the one that actually terrified him most of all?

He didn’t know how to voice any of that to Arya, to anyone, though. Because he knew—he _knew_ —that Sansa would come down the aisle toward him, grinning probably, and that she would hold his hands when she got there, and only then would his hands stop shaking. He knew all of that, knew she loved him, but his six years with her weren’t enough to combat the twenty-two years he’d had before that.

“What’s wrong? You’re not getting cold feet, are you?”

“What? No, of course not.”

Arya stared at him. Jon busied himself with petting Ghost so he didn’t have to meet her eyes.

“You know she’s not getting cold feet, right?” Arya asked slowly. “You could melt the Wall with her feet.”

“Thanks for the imagery?”

“You know what I mean.”

“How’re you and Gendry?” he asked, hoping he’d be able to calm himself down if he stopped thinking about his nerves.

“All this wedding stuff is making anxious for ours. I think he wants to do it big like you guys are.”

“Fifty people really isn’t that big.”

“Well, it’s more than I want.”

“We’re getting married in the backyard, and the reception’s at Wolf’s Crown. Gendry’s band is playing.”

“Still,” she shrugged. “Did you want the big wedding thing, or was that Sansa?”

“We both did. I wanted the traditional ceremony, and she wanted all of her family and friends.”

“You don’t seem like the traditional type. I definitely thought that was Sansa.”

This time it was Jon that shrugged.

“I guess I just wanted one normal milestone, you know? Something normal. Something everyone else experiences,” he admitted honestly. He’d told all of this to Sansa, of course, when they first started the planning, but telling Arya was different.

“Huh. I guess I can get that,” she muttered, flopping down on his bed. “No, but really, you nervous? Is that why you drank tea last night?”

“Isn’t everyone nervous on their wedding day?”

“I wouldn’t know. But, Jon, seriously, is there something else going on?”

 _I’m scared that all of my dreams are coming true._ But he couldn’t say that, because that was dumb. Who was scared of their dreams coming true? Of getting every they ever wanted?

“You’re allowed to be happy, you know.”

“I know. And I am happy.”

“Then why the hell are you freaking out?”

“What if this is all a dream?” he whispered. It wasn’t quite what his fear was, but it was close enough.

He thought Arya might console him or, more likely, tell him not to be stupid and go get in the shower. Instead, she smacked him in the back of the head hard enough he thought he saw stars.

“Ow! What the hell?”

“If you were dreaming that wouldn’t have hurt,” she said sagely. Jon wanted to throw something at her.

“Anyone—literally anyone—else would’ve just hit me with a pillow or something.”

“Oh, shut up. Go get showered. You don’t want to be late to your own wedding, do you?”

Jon groaned and pushed Ghost off so he could get out.

* * *

Arya literally slapping some sense into him had calmed him down some, but now he stood in his suit facing the chairs and the aisle in the Starks’ backyard, and the nerves were back. His hands shook but he couldn’t very well shove them in his pockets.

Arya was stood next to him, watching Sansa’s bridesmaids come down the aisle, and must’ve seen his hands.

“It’s your wedding. Stop looking like you’re going to hurl,” she whispered, nudging him. He huffed out a quiet laugh, but that exact moment was the one Sansa and Ned stepped onto the aisle. He couldn’t breathe.

She looked…ethereal. Radiant. Like a dream.

As soon as he saw her, he couldn’t see anything else.

It was as if the rest of the world had ceased to exist as soon as he saw her. The thought made him smile, not that he wasn’t already, with the sight of her walking toward him, beaming in a white dress, because, really his world hadn’t begun until she came into his life.

By the time Sansa’s hand was in hers, his eyes were so watery he could barely see her.

“Hi,” she whispered, clutching his hands.

“Hi,” he laughed, squeezing them back. “You look… gods, I can’t even…” He had so many words he could use, but they all fell short of how beautiful she was.

“Thanks. You look good yourself.” She grinned at him and though they’d been together for years, he felt twenty-two again, plagued with butterflies after Sansa had smiled at him the first time in the carpark.

“Dearly beloved…” the officiant began then, and Jon swallowed the list of words that were about to spill out to attempt to describe how perfect she was. He’d save it for the vows.

He only half listened as the officiant recited the traditional part of the ceremony. None of that was really important. He just wanted it because it was something he always thought he’d never get. He didn’t care what the words were—just that they were said.

“And now, the fun part. Vows. You’ve both prepared your own, so…ladies first. Sansa, if you will.”

Sansa let go of his hands for the first time as she pulled a slip of paper from her bouquet. Jon’s vision had cleared once the ceremony had started, but he knew he wouldn’t be able to keep it together through the vows.

“Jon,” Sansa started. He saw how the paper trembled, heard how her voice quavered. He felt the lump rise in his throat and she hadn’t even said more than his name yet. How would he able to say his own?

“Jon,” she said again. “I always loved romance novels, romcoms. Arya always gave me crap about it, saying that’s not real life. I’d never find a prince charming like the ones I’d watch or read about. And I went through high school and thought, you know what, maybe she had a point. But then one day when I was waiting for Robb in the carpark, I met you. And you were just…” Jon’s heart was beating in his throat, pulse pounding in his ears. She took a breath, swallowing. “You were perfect, Jon. You are perfect. You’re the prince charming I always read about. You… You gave me the perfect modern fairy tale, Jon. And I only hope that I am able to give you yours. I love you, Jon. And I’ll always love you. You’re it for me, Jon Snow.”

Sansa brushed her fingers across her cheeks as she lowered the paper. Jon found himself batting tears of his own from his face. He couldn’t help but lean across the small space and kiss her quick.

“Hey, you’re not supposed to do that until the end,” Arya stage whispered. He heard a few people chuckle in the audience.

“Sorry. Couldn’t help myself,” he murmured, mostly to Sansa. She grinned at him, her eyes twinkling.

“Ahem,” the officiant coughed. “Jon, your vows?”

“Right. Erm…” He let go of Sansa’s hands then, pulling his on sheet of paper from his pocket.

It was creased and soft from being carried in his pocket so long. He’d written them almost six months ago, when Sansa first suggested the idea of writing their own vows. He’d known exactly what he wanted to say. Now he just had to find his voice to say them.

“S-Sansa… Gods, I didn’t believe I’d ever actually get here,” he said, even though that wasn’t what was written on his paper. “Even this morning, I was nervous about the wedding. Not about you, not really. About… my dreams coming true, because, gods, Sansa, this was the first thing I ever remember wanting. A family, a place to call home. Someone to spend my life with. Someone who loves me, who I love. All my dreams, my birthday wishes, shooting stars, eyelashes, dandelions… they’ve all been for a family. It’s my biggest wish and my greatest fear… And, Seven hells, I… after aging out, and after undergrad, I never thought I was going to get all of that. Not until you. You… you gave me everything— _everything_ —I could ever dream about, Sansa. You made my dreams come true. You gave me a home, a family, love. I don’t know where I’d be, who I’d be, without you. I love you, and I’m going to spend the rest of our lives making sure you know that,” he finished, voice absolutely wrecked with tears.

None of that was what he had written down. What he had written down was softer, sweeter, not as achingly honest. It was all things he wanted her to know, but they had the rest of their lives for him to tell her that.

“Oh, Jon, of course I know,” she breathed, grabbing his hands and squeezing tight. It was like she was trying to say her vows over again through her touch.

“And now as a symbol of your love for each other, you’ll exchange rings, and repeat after me. So, Jon, if you’ll take Sansa’s hand and say, ‘Sansa, this ring is a token of my love for you…’”

“Sansa, this ring is a token of my love for you. It is a physical representation of our commitment to each other. With it, I pledge my life, my love, and my loyalty to you and only you from this day, until my last day.”

His voice was rougher this time, and his hands shook as he slid the ring on her fourth finger.

“Great, now, Sansa…”

“Jon, this ring is a token of my love for you. It is a physical representation of our commitment to each other. With it, I pledge my life, my love, and my loyalty to you and only you from this day, until my last day.”

She slid her ring onto his finger and felt his knees go weak. She wore his ring and he wore hers. It was official.

“You may now seal your vows with a kiss.”

Jon had always imagined giving her a quick peck, given that they were stood in front of friends and family, but he was flooded with emotion, and instead he pulled her around into a dip and kissed her deeply. Long enough that there were hoots and applauding, mostly probably from Arya and the Stark boys.

When Jon pulled back, he grinned sheepishly at her, hoping he hadn’t ruined her moment. Instead, all she did was rest her palm against his cheek and stare fondly at him.

“And now, I have the honor of introducing to you, for the first time, Mr. and Mrs. Jon Stark,” the officiant cheered.

_Jon Stark._

All of his dreams came true, all because of Sansa.

“I love you,” he whispered, pulling her upright.

“I love you.”


	2. The Reception

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First Dance: Can't Help Falling In Love (Kina Grannis cover)
> 
> Ned and Sansa Dance: Cinderella (Steven Curtis Chapman)
> 
> Catelyn and Jon Dance: My Wish (Rascal Flatts)

  **Sansa**

“Are you ready for this?” Sansa whispered, gripping Jon’s hand. They were waiting in the coatroom of the Wolf’s Crown, which they’d rented out for the evening.

Arya had told her how nervous he’d been before the ceremony, and Sansa thought this was the more nerve-wracking part. This was the part where everyone cheered them and they were the center of attention. Before, the ceremony, they were in their own little bubble. She knew there were people listening, but her entire focus had been on Jon. The reception was different. They didn’t have the same little bubble here.

“With you by my side, I’m ready for anything,” Jon answered. Sansa saw how his face colored with the admission. “I should’ve put that in my vows,” he joked.

“Even a room full of people? I know that’s not really your thing.”

“It’s your family. I’ll be fine,” he shrugged.

“It’s _our_ family. You’re Jon Stark, now, remember?”

“Our family,” he said softly, looking towards the door they were meant to go through at any second.

“Oh, I have a surprise for you, by the way.”

“A surprise?”

“Well, it wasn’t really supposed to be a surprise, but I forgot to tell you yesterday.”

“What is it?”

“You’ll see.”

“I have a surprise for you, too. But not until after the reception.”

Sansa felt her entire body flush. She’d been so focused on the ceremony and reception that she forgot what came after all that. The honeymoon. They’d planned one, of course, but it somehow had slipped her mind.

She opened her mouth to ask Jon what it was, or for a hint, but the emcee summoned them out then.

“And now if you’ll join me in welcoming the newlyweds: Jon and Sansa Stark!”

She squeezed Jon’s hand once more before the door to the coatroom opened and they were met with the screams and cheers of their families. Sansa found herself smiling, grinning, beaming as she was flooded with joy. She glanced to Jon, sure he’d have his professional, polite smile because being in crowds and being the center of attention were both things that made him uncomfortable, but he was smiling just as wide as she was.

Sansa led Jon to the dance floor as the acoustic guitar chords of their song for their first dance started.

They’d taken a few dance classes because Jon wanted to do more than just stand and sway, but as soon as Jon’s arm went around her waist, she forgot all the steps she’d learned. Even as Jon twirled her around the dance floor, she couldn’t remember what came next.

Instead, her mind was flooded with images of their relationship. With every lyric of the song, she remembered why this had been their only choice for their first dance.

_Wise men say, only fools rush in…_

Her kissing him at the New Year’s party.

_Shall I stay? Would it be a sin?_

Her and Jon falling asleep watching movies on Margaery’s couch.

_If I can’t help, falling in love with you…_

Her spending all of her time in his apartment, drawing him every chance she got.

_Some things are meant to be…_

A montage of every time they kissed, they smiled at each other, every time she hugged him. Her pulling his name from that hat Arya’s presented her with.

_So take my hand…_

The first time they met and shook hands outside Robb’s car.

_Take my whole life, too…_

Jon sliding the ring onto her finger.

_For I can’t help falling in love with you…_

Jon’s face in front of her as they whirled around the dance floor. The calmness, the happiness in his expression. The softness in his grey eyes.

_For I can’t help falling in love with you…_

Jon pulled her close as the song finished and whispered the last lyric in her ear. She thought she would cry all over again.

* * *

Throughout the dinner, Sansa noticed how Jon couldn’t help but stare at his left hand. She found herself doing the same. She’d gotten used to her engagement ring—it’d been on her finger for over a year after all, but the silver band beneath it? The one that matched Jon’s? That made her breath stop.

When she met him all those years ago, she never expected that it would end here. But she couldn’t imagine it going any other way. She couldn’t imagine her life without Jon—she hadn’t been able to since she met him. He had immediately become a permanent fixture in her life and she wouldn’t have it any other way.

“What?” Jon whispered at one point. She must’ve been staring at him for too long. His hand went to his face. “Do I have something?”

“No. I just like looking at my husband.”

“Husband,” she thought she heard him whisper.

“Husband,” she breathed, leaning in closer until her lips tickled his ear. His fingers trailed on the inside of her wrist then, goosebumps forming in his wake. “You know, that coatroom looked really comfortable.”

Jon turned his head and Sansa was surprised with how dark his eyes were. She watched as he swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing. She wondered what that surprise was. She wondered if she could find out early.

She never thought she’d be trying to sneak her husband out of her own reception to consummate in the coatroom, but if he was down, she certainly was.

“I’ll meet you in three minutes?” she murmured.

Jon opened his mouth but the emcee spoke instead.

“If you’ll please welcome to the stage Arya Stark and Robb Stark, who have been asked to speak about the couple.”

Sansa groaned. Jon gripped her hand, his thumb rubbing a pattern just below her wedding ring.

“We’ll have plenty of time. After.”

“So, when Sansa asked me to speak at her wedding, the first thing that came to mind were all these embarrassing stories from when we were young,” Arya began. “Her first crushes, the romance novels she used to moon over. The summer she taped a picture of—who was it, Heath Ledger?—to the bathroom mirror. It was how she practiced kissing when she was thirteen. Did you know she actually burned out the disc for _10 Things I Hate About You_? I didn’t even know that was possible.”

“That was _not_ how I practiced kissing.”

Sansa was grateful when Robb leaned over to whisper to Arya. She could see her sister’s eyeroll from where she sat across the room.

“I’ve just been told I’ve met my quota for embarrassing Sansa, so. I used to think that my sister was stuck up. Insufferable. When Robb brought Jon home, I never thought she and Jon would hit it off. He was nothing like the guys she used to go on dates with. But she took one look at him and decided, _he needs a good Christmas_ and gave him one. Without Jon, I don’t know that I would’ve come to understand my sister. I never would’ve picked Jon out for her, or picked Sansa out for Jon, but they work. The love they have—it’s cosmic. It’s straight out of all those cheesy romcoms I used to make fun of her for. They shouldn’t work, but they do. And it’s beautiful. I love you both, and wish you nothing but the best.”

All the irritation Sansa had felt at the beginning of Arya’s speech had leaked out by the end. Instead, she was letting go of Jon’s hand and rushing up to hug her sister.

“I love you, too,” she whispered.

“Gross,” Arya scoffed, but hugged her back regardless.

“Alright, I don’t know that this’ll be as sappy as that, which, by the way, Gendry, you owe me ten bucks. Arya didn’t even sniffle.”

“ _Hey_!”

“So, I suppose I’m the one to blame for all of this. Or, at least, that’s what Arya said last night. I met Jon during my first semester of grad school. We were in most of the same classes so it was only natural that we became friends. One day, we were all talking about going home for the holiday, and Jon must’ve said something—I don’t remember what—but I ended up inviting him home. I have no idea what happened between Jon and Sansa during that month—”

“ _Nothing_ happened, you ass,” Jon called.

“Well, we did kiss,” Sansa whispered, leaning over to him.

“On New Year’s. That doesn’t count.”

“So, you claim—nothing happened. All I know is I brought Jon home but Sansa was the one who made him family. And Arya’s right—I never would’ve picked these two for each other, but I wouldn’t trust anyone else with my little sister. And I wouldn’t trust anyone else with my best friend, so cheers to you. I know together you’ll be the happiest people on earth.”

“Thanks, mate.” Sansa could hear the emotion in Jon’s voice as he hugged Robb. She wondered what he’d feel after the next announcement the emcee would make.

“Alright everyone, before we open the dance floor up to everyone, there’s two dances left. We’ll start off with everyone’s favorite, the father daughter dance.”

If Sansa hadn’t been watching her father, she never would’ve seen the way his head snapped up in surprise. Apparently, Catelyn hadn’t gotten around to telling Ned about the change of plans either.

“I thought you weren’t doing these dances,” Ned asked as he led her out to the dance floor.

“Mum changed my mind. She’s offered to dance with Jon so he doesn’t feel left out.”

Sansa set her hand in her father’s as the piano chords began, and she was suddenly thrown back to when she was a little girl and he would spin her around the living room while she stood on his feet. She’d nearly forgotten about that—about the pretend weddings she’d had as a girl, and how Ned would always dance with her at them.

“ _So I will dance with Cinderella, while she’s here in my arms…”_

“Did you pick this song?” she asked, listening to the lyrics.

“Your mum must’ve.”

Sansa smiled as her dad twirled her, the skirt of her dress swirling out like she always imagined it would as a girl.

She had thought that she hadn’t cared about the father daughter dance, but she realized she did. And she was really glad Catelyn talked her into it.

* * *

**Jon**

“Wasn’t that beautiful? Up next we have the mother son dance.”

Jon felt his stomach try to leap out of his throat. Why didn’t anyone tell the emcee that there wasn’t going to be a mother son dance?

“Oh, sorry. Mother-in-law and son-in-law dance. My bad.”

“What?” Jon whispered. He instinctively looked for Sansa, the way he always did now when he didn’t know what was going on. He was glad to see that she was only a table away. “I’m dancing with your mum?”

“This was the thing I forgot to tell you. Is it okay? I’m sorry, I should’ve told you.” Sansa’s brows had inched up on her forehead, and Jon thought that she shouldn’t look this concerned on her wedding day.

“No, it’s fine. I was just surprised is all. It’s fine, I promise.” He pulled her in, kissing her forehead to make those lines disappear.

“You sure?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m sure.” And he was—he had no problem dancing with Catelyn. He just wished that the emcee hadn’t read the sheet wrong the first time. That was what had thrown him off.

“Thanks for doing this,” Catelyn said, taking his hand.

“Thank you,” he corrected. “I’m sure that dance meant a lot to Sansa.”

“It meant a lot to Ned, too. That’s why I offered to do this. I didn’t want you to be left out.”

“You…offered?”

“I wish we would’ve thought of it earlier. Then you and Sansa could’ve picked the songs. I hope you don’t mind this one.”

Jon hadn’t even been playing attention to the song that was playing, or the fact that he was dancing. He was still trying to wrap his head around Catelyn volunteering to dance with him. At her mentioning it, though, he started to listen.

“ _And while you’re out there getting where you’re getting to, I hope you know somebody loves you, and wants the same things too, yeah, this, is my wish…”_

“Not at all,” he choked out.

Even though he knew Catelyn was supportive of their relationship, of them getting married, he always felt a tension between them. One he could never name. Dancing with her now, listening to the song she picked, he realized that maybe he was just projecting the tension. Because she was now his mother-in-law, and though that _in-law_ implied distance, she was the closest thing to a mother he would ever have. And that freaked him out.

He knew when he married Sansa that the Starks would become his family. Hell, they’d been calling him family for years. He was in their family pictures. But in the whole six years, he’d always thought of _family_ as an abstract notion, or, at most, at the idea of having what were essentially siblings in Arya and the boys. The fact that Ned and Catelyn would be his parental in-laws never even crossed his mind.

“Jon? You okay?” Catelyn’s voice yanked him from his realization.

“Yeah, yeah. I just…” He didn’t really want to admit that when he thought about joining Sansa’s family, her and Ned slipped his mind.

“I get it. It’s a lot,” she offered, and Jon was grateful that she didn’t press him for more.

“Yeah,” he whispered.

“I really am happy that you and Sansa found each other. I think what Robb and Arya said was right—I never would’ve picked you two for each other, but now I couldn’t imagine anyone more perfect for Sansa.”

“I—Thank you. That means a lot.” It meant the world.

* * *

“I thought we were just going back to our place. We don’t leave for the honeymoon for two more days,” Sansa said as he held the car door open for her. He grinned at the _JUST MARRIED_ that had been painted on the back window.

“I told you I had a surprise for you.” Jon slid into the driver’s seat, and the sight of Sansa in her wedding dress, with the ring on her finger, still took his breath away.

“You know you gotta keep your eyes on the road, right?” she asked. Jon blushed and moved to start the car.

“I’m sorry that I just like to look at my wife.”

_Wife, wife, Sansa was his wife._

“Do I need to sit the back seat?”

“No,” he said suddenly, grabbing her hand. “Then I’d be focused on trying to get a glimpse of you in the rearview mirror.”

“You going to tell me where we’re going?”

“Nope.”

* * *

“A hotel?”

“Wait here. I’ll be right back.”

Jon ran in to check them in and get the bags he had dropped off earlier sent up to the room. He knew that Sansa had said she honestly hadn’t minded the gap between the wedding and the honeymoon because the flight was cheaper if they waited. He had minded though. He wanted everything to be perfect and bringing her back to their house just didn’t feel perfect. It wasn’t special. This was.

“Oh, no, no, wait a second,” he murmured, stopping her from stepping out of the car. Instead, he swept her into his arms. Her arms went around his neck as she laughed.

Jon carried her through the lobby and into the elevator, where Sansa let go.

“What, you’re carrying me all the way?” she asked.

“Yup. I’m carrying my bride across the threshold.”

_His bride._

Even as he held her, it still didn’t feel real. He still felt like he was dreaming.

But it was, and she was in his arms, and they had the rest of their lives together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know a few people asked for the wedding night, but it's very similar to the next one I have lined up for this 'verse, so I'm not including it here. Sorry. BUT you do have the next one to look forward to, which I believe was requested by multiple people.

**Author's Note:**

> The wedding--the idea of Catelyn dancing with Jon was the whole motivation I had in wanting to write all of these follow ups. I hope you're as excited for it as I am.
> 
> The next chapter will be the reception. I hope to have it up next week some time. If not, please feel free to yell at me because if forces me to find the motivation.


End file.
